CONCORDIA

It turned out that our route West towards Colorado took us right through Concordia, Missouri, a town named by my great-great-great-grand uncle. We had no choice but to stop. It’s not every day that you are able to read your ancestor’s name on plaques, or see his photograph displayed prominently among town leaders of old. Besides, he had been bugging me for months to visit Concordia. Waking me in the dead of night to watch him sit and fiddle with his watch and ramble about sparrows and the woods near his home. Am I serious? Yes. But then, I’ve always been one whose dream life consistently dwarfs reality. And in the end, it doesn’t really matter. What matters is that his memory is alive, his story is shared. And that I am able to be inspired by someone I have never met. If you watch the video, perhaps you’ll understand ...